


Lead to Gold

by countrytocountry



Category: When The Night Comes (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25975858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countrytocountry/pseuds/countrytocountry
Relationships: August Willenheim/f!Hunter, Hunter/August Willenheim
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Lead to Gold

“August? It’s me.”

All of a sudden, the room turns brighter and comes into sharp focus. _Her_.

She comes through the door, beaming, the light of her smile almost painful to look upon. She swiftly crosses the room and takes them in her arms. They bury their nose in her hair--she smells like lavender, just like them, because she’s been staying at their house and they permit her to use their (very expensive) Argyrian hair oil. 

But the thing that August keeps coming back to is just how wonderful it feels to be held. This place, enclosed within her arms, is the one place where they can permit themselves to let out the breath they’re always holding, as they wait for the other shoe to inevitably drop. Deep down, however, they know that the axe will never fall with her. They know, secretly, that here, they’re safe.

She leans back to take a look at them. Worry creases her brow as she takes in what August supposes is a sorry sight. She rests her cool hand on their forehead, gently, then brushes their hair out of their eyes. They lean into her hand, thinking once more how quiet, how blissful it is, here, with her. They wish they could capture this moment in a bottle, like so many fireflies giving off a warm glow on a dark night. 

She looks into their eyes for a moment, her gaze so soft it hurts their heart. Then she says, “You shouldn’t work yourself like this--you need rest.” When they open their mouth to protest, she stops them with a kiss. She winds her fingers in their hair, trailing her nails over their scalp, and they forget that they were ever cross with her for suggesting that they put their work aside. 

“Now,” she says, her cheeks flushed, “this is a good time to stop. Come home, my love.”

And just like that, any protests die in their throat. I can’t say no when she looks at me like that. It still feels unreal, that they should be so loved by someone. They’d never imagined that anyone could look at them--look at August, not General Willenheim, not the powerful mage--and see someone worth loving, just as they are. It seemed to them a sort of magic in itself, an alchemy by which they were transmuted into something the same and yet wholly new. 

They smile. “Of course. Let’s go.”


End file.
